


Local Vicar Ruins Everything

by Zlu_and_Luff



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-05-30 15:14:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 19,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6429538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zlu_and_Luff/pseuds/Zlu_and_Luff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of stories from the golden age of the Healing Church. (Though mostly a story about a certain vicar and his champion). Enjoy and please leave us a review! :3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Little Joys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you plan to read the NSFW companion fic So Our Forefathers Sinned, it will be more fun if you first read the first 2 chapters of Local Vicar and only then start the other fic.

The last rays of the setting sun played in the deep crimson of sacramental wine. The edges of the golden goblet shone with this dying light like a burning halo.

Laurence, the Vicar of the Healing Church, lifted the cup in a silent toast. His reflection in the window followed suit. Outside the window Yharnam sprawled towards the horizon, a city on the verge of a renaissance. Under Laurence’s watchful eye one after another church steeples rose to dominate the skyline. Here in the Cathedral Ward they crowded like a gathering of giants overseeing the growing city.

His city.

Laurence sipped his wine.

Yharnam had been an unimpressive cluster of hovels when he had first set his foot in it. But as his Healing Church came to prominence the city bloomed, drawing in fresh blood and money from all corners of the world. It was merely a trickle for now, but Laurence saw the promise it held. With every miraculous act of healing the story spread. Few decades more and the city would become a place of pilgrimage for every ailing soul upon this earth. Laurence could wait to see that. With the old blood in his veins he could wait far longer than that.

A knock on the door shook Laurence out of his reverie. The Vicar rested his goblet on the table next to the crystal decanter and ambled towards the door to greet his guest.

“Please, come in.”

The tall doors opened, letting in a towering man, clad in silver and white. Ludwig looked at Laurence and bowed his head in greeting. "Good evening, Your Reverence. Sorry to have kept you waiting. Minor trouble down at the workshop, swiftly dealt with, of course."

“Of course.” Laurence nodded. “Evening, Ludwig, do come in, take a seat.” He gestured towards the two armchairs and the small table with the goblets and wine that stood by a lit fireplace. Then as his guest took his place, Laurence filled his goblet and passed it to him.

Ludwig accepted the wine with a grateful expression, taking a quick sip. “Ah, thank you, I needed this badly.”

Laurence nestled into his armchair, getting comfortable between several pillows. Even the custom made armchair was too large for his rather small frame. It was a most unfortunate mistake on the part of the carpenter, who simply could not believe the famous vicar was a man of such minute proportions. Still, his companion looked much more uncomfortable and Laurence’s eyes were drawn to Ludwig’s broad muscular shoulders, that didn’t allow the man to recline comfortably in the high back armchair he now occupied.

It seemed the hunter himself didn’t pay it any heed or think it a problem. He was well used to such inconveniences. All in all, it wasn't too surprising. Ludwig always seemed to be quite aware of his size, and of the limitations, as well as the advantages that came together with it. He noticed the vicar's gaze and raised his eyebrows, "So how was your day, Laurence? I’ve seen but a glimpse of you today."

“It was fruitful. Another batch of Byrgenwerth’s finest at our doorstep, begging to be let in on the research. A new church consecrated in Central Yharnam. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.” The Vicar smiled. “A whole day of being chased about by men who need my opinion on every matter in the Church. I can’t be more grateful for your leadership of the Church Hunters. I am truly blessed with such a competent and reliable subordinate.” Laurence brought his cup to his lips, watching the hunter’s eyes fill with that particular radiance, as he voiced his thanks, and assured the vicar of his unrelenting commitment to the cause of the Church.

Ludwig had indeed proved to be a very reliable and adequate underling. He was without a doubt a warrior few could rival, but it was his personal qualities that were the most important at that moment. As the Healing Church grew, Laurence could not hope to control every aspect of its life without proxies. And Ludwig proved to be quite invaluable as such. However the reasons for this burst of praise were entirely different. And quite primal really. Because except for his other positive qualities, Ludwig was strikingly handsome.

He wasn’t the only attractive man in Laurence’s claque. But he was the most trustworthy one. The affair with Gehrman had grown stale a good long while ago. The chance encounters with clerics and hunters alike were amusing, but lacked substance. Laurence felt he could use a more permanent partner and this statuesque honourable man was the perfect candidate. He was a fine piece of marble, and Laurence fancied himself quite the sculptor. Now it was merely the matter of planting the seeds in Ludwig’s mind and guiding him into the unexplored territory of bedding other men. No doubt it would take a bit of time and work, but for such a fine specimen Laurence was ready to commit.

“I hope that despite your hard work and vigilance you find time for respite,” Laurence said. “Little joys keep the flame of one’s righteous passion burning. Tell me, Ludwig, what do you do at your leisure?”

The champion of the church hunters smiled. "Ah, well said, as always. But I'm afraid I will bore you with my answers. Isn't there something of import you wished us to discuss?"

“Something important? No, I’m afraid I have unwittingly misled you.” Laurence gestured with his goblet. “My desire was merely to spend a while in your company. Last time we shared a casual chat might as well have been years ago in the underground labyrinths. It’s a downright sin that a friendship such as ours should be forsaken for so long.”

  
Ludwig frowned, just a little, as if he hadn't realized just how rarely they met this way. "Truer words have never been spoken. I wouldn't want to continue this way either. Well, it only gladdens me to hear there is no urgent matter at hand and that you would choose to relax in my company. Let us talk then.” He grew pensive for a moment, as he thought on the answer to Laurence’s earlier question. “As to my leisure time, I'm afraid I'm one of these men who find respite in continued work. Be it locking myself away in the workshop's smithy at night and shaping hot iron or pondering on weapons that will allow our hunters to nip the beasthood in the bud. I, hmm, I love galloping through the woods on the outskirts of Yharnam. And I do enjoy quiet moments, spent in good company. Like this one, precisely." He sipped his wine with a slight smile, watching Laurence from the tight confines of his chair. "What about you?"

“Why, I am quite like that myself. Additional research and good company are what I prefer to devote my leisure to. An occasional walk through the Ward or the gardens helps me get my thoughts into order. Sometimes I reminisce about our ventures into the catacombs, all those fascinating abominations you cut down like they were mere weeds. Such prodigious strength and skill. I imagine you hone your craft vehemently.” As vehemently as I hone my mind, Laurence thought, but didn’t say. There would be time for self-adoration later, now was the time to coat his prey in words of praise. Weave his little web and tighten it later.

Ludwig raised his eyebrows again and for a moment Laurence thought that he might have overdone the compliments. He was however reassured as soon as the hunter spoke again.

"Indeed, I spend a lot of time training." The lower levels of catacombs swallowed those who were not prepared to enter, both physically and mentally. The scholars used to accompany the hunters and tomb prospectors on the ventures once, but these days hunters went first, to clear the area and only then the expedition of scholars would follow. "I wouldn't propose you to descend into the labyrinths by my side again, for the beasts loom large and fire and venom rain on every turn. But perhaps we could stroll through the gardens together once?"

Laurence congratulated himself on this small but swift victory, one of many to come. “It would be my pleasure.”

Ludwig smiled again. They sipped their wine and the conversation slipped onto recent developments in the church, the city, the workshops. It was idle chatter, but if he wanted to get the man into his bed, Laurence first had to rekindle the flame of friendship. Then test the unfamiliar waters, see how malleable a man he had to work with and then use his charm to slowly make the hunter notice the appeal of another man’s body. So far Laurence had not met a man he couldn’t seduce. This, however, looked like a long-term project. He didn’t mind, he could use a distraction.

The decanter was emptied and refilled, and the sun hid behind the furthest roofs. A servant came and fed the flames in the fireplace and then lit some candles to hold back the darkness pouring over the city outside.

When they were left alone again a pleasant silence crept over the two men. Laurence was sprawled on his numerous pillows, having washed away all semblance of good manners with sacramental wine. Ludwig had found a way to recline in his chair and seemed fairly comfortable, which the vicar was very pleased about.

He studied the hunter’s fine noble features, his long dark hair in which the firelight played beautifully, his muscular frame, his arms that could restlessly swing a sword Laurence couldn’t hope to even lift off the ground. Ludwig was a living masterpiece. Laurence wanted some statues of him to be erected in the Cathedral Ward. But that wouldn’t sit with the doctrine of the Church he had created. Perhaps a statue to keep in his private chambers… Bah, he would much rather have the hunter himself there. Laurence smirked at the thought.

Perhaps Ludwig took note of the vicar’s scrutiny, as after a while he remarked that it was getting late and he had to retire for the night. “It had been an immense pleasure, but no doubt you also have an early morning with a myriad of duties to attend to,” he said as he drank up the last drop of wine from his goblet and stood up so steady and straight, as if he hadn’t downed three bottles of liquor they’d shared.

Laurence stirred in his armchair and then somewhat gracelessly rose to his feet as well. He hadn’t realized just how drowsy the drink had made him. He straightened his clothes. “Well, yes. It was a treat. I will await our next meeting,” he said, offering his hand for a handshake.

He watched in bewilderment as Ludwig bowed his head and lifted the offered hand to his lips, "Likewise, Your Reverence," said the hunter as he pressed a kiss to it, looking into Laurence’s eyes with a playful expression. It wasn't all that uncommon for someone to kiss the vicar's hand but Ludwig's smile left Laurence wondering if the wine hadn’t made his intentions too clear to the hunter. As the man let his hand go then and bid him farewell the vicar stared at him, quite openly baffled, hand still hovering in the air, where Ludwig had left it.

Ludwig was already mostly out of the door but he stopped then, clearly amused by the sight of the vicar caught so off guard. "I am not a stranger to the small joys and righteous passions you might have in mind, Laurence. And trust me, I've been hooked for longer than you think." With that, he graced the smaller man with another radiant smile and left.

Laurence stared at the door for a moment and then downed his wine. It was disquieting that Ludwig read him better than he read the hunter. But it made bedding him easier. Laurence looked at his own reflection in the golden goblet. It only made sense that Ludwig would be smitten - drat it, he was gorgeous. Laurence put the goblet on the table and retired to his bedroom with a bounce in his step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked it, please leave us a comment! C:
> 
> The fic will be jumping in time, and will contain drabbles as well as longer fragments like this chapter.
> 
> Some unused dialogue, revealing unspoken facts :P
> 
> "Tell me, Ludwig, what do you do at your leisure? Because I do half of the Church and then during work hours I do the other half."


	2. Serenade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ludwig speaks his mind. Luckily Laurence doesn't.

They walked side by side through the Cathedral Ward, pleasant dusk slowly settling around them, as the orange rays of sunlight graced the lofty church towers and roofs of their prospering city.

When they reached the looking terrace, Ludwig took in the magnificent view, and his heart filled to the brim with pride and joy of their righteous achievements. Then he looked down at the smaller man beside him, and felt deep admiration. The Vicar of the Healing Church was a virtuous, hard-working man, entirely devoted to bringing about a better future for Yharnam and its people. Being a part of this grand design was a blessing.

When Laurence caught his look and smiled up at him, light playing on the rims of his glasses, the admiration transformed into something different. Into stirrings of profound affection that Ludwig knew he had been allowed to act upon. The leader of church hunters dared not rush this budding relationship however, this man deserved to be shown the same commitment and devotion that he gave to the people he served. They might have exchanged a jest or two sometimes but it would have been a crime against all that was holy to treat the vicar with any kind of disrespect.

Ever since that evening in Laurence’s study, they strove to make time to meet this way, sometimes at the verge of nightfall, or in the desolate hours before dawn when they could be alone. Each of their encounters left Ludwig inspired and ready to topple every obstacle that stood in the way of the Healing Church and especially, any obstacle that stood in the way of its founder. With Laurence’s guidance nothing seemed impossible. It felt right, to be here by his side.

"I could gaze upon this view forever," Ludwig said at last, breaking the silence. "It fills me with hope."

"Yes," Laurence agreed. "This sight fills me with purpose." He surveyed the city with a smile, then looked up at Ludwig. "The Healing Church will cure the whole world. And the enlightenment we bring will become the foundation a new golden age."

Ludwig felt great reassurance, as Laurence spoke. The vicar's voice lifted the tiredness and allayed all the small doubts that came with their everyday work. "It will truly be so." Ludwig said, with conviction. He believed it with every fibre of his being. He knew that some did not share his certainty. Laurence's detractors could cast aspersions and resort to slander but in Ludwig's eyes they were but blind men, who would never be able to look beyond toil of today and the many ordeals of tomorrow to see the promise of the bright future beyond the horizon. Laurence was a visionary, and even though he had not managed to line his brain with eyes, to him the path was clear, and even though the road ahead of them led far into the unknown, Ludwig was ready to assist him. His gaze had drifted towards the skyline but he turned again now to look at the vicar, suddenly feeling the need to voice his devotion. "On this venture, you shall never be alone, Laurence. I will aid you, each step of the way."

The vicar’s eyebrows rose, and he scrutinized Ludwig through the thick glass of his spectacles. "I wouldn’t ask that of any man," he said with a somewhat amused smile and patted Ludwig’s arm lightly with his hand. "But it is a very noble desire on your part..."

"I mean it, Laurence." There was something in Ludwig's eyes, a strange intensity that bordered on a holy passion. For a moment, the church hunter just stood there in silence, his features drawn. Then to the vicar's surprise the man sank to one knee before him, and took his hand in his, touching it gently to his bowed forehead. "The years may be long and the work arduous but I will stand by you to lighten your burden. Revilers might whisper lies behind your back but I will silence their foul tongues. The underground maze may wind into primeval darkness but I shall disperse its shadows for you and I will fell the guardians of its secrets. Together we will stand against all odds." He lifted his gaze up to the vicar, as he added quietly, and almost questioningly. "If only you shall wish it."

Laurence stared at him speechless, devoid of expression.

He had not foreseen such a turn of events and one occurring so swiftly. Once again Ludwig managed to surprise him. The vicar studied the hunter’s honest, handsome face that looked up at him with reverence and hesitation. This was too much. Ludwig was clearly of that rare breed of man in which power and true nobility mixed. A unique and precious thing. Laurence felt his stomach sink. His ego told him to accept the generous offer, but in all honesty the man before him deserved better. Ludwig hardly knew him. He was a perfect shining knight errant serenading under a balcony of a brothel.

Laurence winced at the unfavorable though accurate mental comparison.

The prolonged silence and the vicar's grimace were noted by the hunter. Ludwig pursed his lips, his expression strained, as he let go of Laurence's hand and lowered his gaze again. "I apologize, Your Reverence. I... clearly stepped out of my bounds. I should have never spoken this boldly." The tone of utmost conviction was gone from Ludwig’s voice.

The vicar laughed. But before Ludwig could get any further false impressions, Laurence took a step closer and put his hands on Ludwig’s broad shoulders. "My dear Ludwig, you have overstepped nothing." He smiled heartily when Ludwig looked up at him. "This was the most beautiful thing anyone ever told me." One of his hands left Ludwig’s shoulder and instead caressed the side of the hunter’s handsome face. He couldn’t force himself to say he didn’t deserve Ludwig. He probably didn’t. But the man looked so hopeful. And oh so gorgeous. Laurence simply couldn’t say no.

The relief that washed over the hunter was clearly evident.

Laurence would always remember how the look of broken certainty slowly became a sincere, dazzling smile.

* * *

 

You can find our designs of Laurence and Ludwig and the other young Healing Church forefathers [over here](http://zlukaka.tumblr.com/tagged/the-healing-derps/chrono).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Their thought process while on that terrace:  
> Ludwig: "It would be a crime against all that is holy to treat the vicar with any kind of disrespect."  
> Laurence: "Take me now, on this railing."


	3. The Underground Labyrinth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurence reminisces the day they first met. Also, enjoy some Gehrman ;D

Moonlight played in Ludwig’s silken hair. It bathed his skin in a blueish glow and outlined his angular, noble features. Laurence watched his lover with a peaceful smile. On nights like this when the moon was almost full, pale like a dead Pthumerian, and the monthly labyrinth hunt was coming the vicar often found himself sleepless. He never went down there anymore, but he trusted the leader of the Church Hunters to keep himself and his men safe. Still the memories of that abominable underground world haunted him. Observing Ludwig’s sleeping form calmed his senses in such moments. So he stood by the window and took in the sight of the muscular man sprawled on his enormous bed. Or it had seemed enormous before he’d first had Ludwig here. With the leader of the Church Hunters in it the bed was barely adequate.

Laurence snorted soundlessly at that thought. Ludwig was a mountain of a man. Unlike the other men of the church he had been so even before he partook of the holy blood. He had been that way when they first noticed each other during a venture in the underground labyrinth. Laurence remembered it like it was yesterday…

* * *

On that expedition into the realm of tangled roots and ever-changing corridors, half a dozen scholars were accompanied by twice as many armed tomb prospectors. These brave souls had been hand-picked by Gehrman to protect the research crew, yet the founder of the recently established Workshop was reluctant to call these men 'hunters'. They were merely adventurers who came to Yharnam from across the land, heeding the call of Byrgenwerth. The school had made it known far and wide that the catacombs had been unsealed, and invited all the skilled huntsmen and warriors to join them on their ventures. Down in the deadly darkness of the chalice dungeons, these men could prove their bravery and prowess. Gehrman had tested their abilities and found them sufficient but he would never let these outsiders lead the scholars unsupervised. So of course, he was accompanying the expedition as well. He walked at the front of the group with his Burial Blade in hand and his new cloak billowing behind him.

Laurence always found Gehrman’s need to dress up for the underground hunts ridiculous. With the money Byrgenwerth paid the university groundskeeper's son to cut down the abominations down here Laurence had expected Gehrman to put that money into suitable armor or several new pistols. But simple folk clearly couldn't keep their priorities in order when it came to large sums of money. Laurence was quite sure the fancy cape would end up in shreds soon enough. Still, he couldn't deny the elegance of Gehrman’s garb. He knew it well. He’d peeled it off the man countless times already. But now was not the time to contemplate Gehrman’s ridiculously long legs or his outfit. They were approaching uncharted territory.

Excitement rushed through Laurence as he heard shuffling ahead. He glimpsed the skinny form of a Pthumerian watcher as it charged towards their group only to be cut down by one of the hunters at the head of the procession. Gehrman barked an order for restraint, but one of the prospectors ignored it and charged towards a group of watchers in a room up ahead. He never made it to the threshold. A giant blade came whistling down and was it not for Gehrman’s quick reaction the impatient hunter would have surely been sliced in half. As it was he merely stood inches from the blade, while Gehrman chastised him. The groundskeeper's son knew more of traps than the lot of them. His experience of trapping beasts in the forests around the university had proved invaluable yet again. Laurence felt a hint of pride. The other men only hunted for sport, they knew little of the tedious work performed by their servants and underlings. Without Gehrman none of them stood a chance down here.

A quick inspection revealed the trigger for the falling blade, and Gehrman marked the area with chalk. Armed with this new knowledge and wary of further traps, several huntsmen crossed the threshold of the chamber and set to cutting down the shambling ghosts of the long dead civilization. Most of the scholars watched them with scientific interest. Some of them scribbled down notes.

Laurence fixed the spectacles on his nose. They kept sliding down under the weight of the new thicker lenses. He squinted briefly at the squabble ahead and returned to his notebook, mapping out the new area of the underground labyrinth. He could hardly see the hunters and their quarry at such a distance, and trying to make them out in the dim light of torches was simply not worth the effort. His sight was getting less and less reliable. Laurence grimaced, trying not to think on it. Better to focus on the fascinating subterranean world around him than on his own mundane though inescapable doom.

The hunters gave a call and the rest of them carefully crossed the fallen blade, this time intentionally triggered by Gehrman. The chamber they entered was vast with tall columns rising into thick cavernous darkness above. Hooded statues stood below them, holding lanterns that lit the center of the long chamber. Dead Pthumerians lay by the walls. Sometimes in pieces, other times relatively intact. Each hunter had his personal style and approach. But they were mindful enough to move the bloody remains aside for the scholars to walk around freely once an area was secured.

The hired tomb prospectors had been instructed to kill every hostile creature they encountered. The scholars of Byrgenwerth wished to study the strange dwellers of these ruins, yes, but they could just as well study their corpses. They had tried to capture some of the specimen alive in the beginning, and even succeeded, but when it became clear that the dungeons were crawling with these creatures, the instructions were changed. Lives of researchers were of far more import.

Now that nothing stirred around them, the scholars scattered around the room, some taking samples, others studying the architecture and overall layout of their surroundings. Laurence wandered to the right, drawn by an isolated patch of light. A group of candles burned on what appeared to be a crude altar. The candles perplexed Laurence. He could comprehend how the degenerated Pthumerians replenished their supply of torches and lamp oil, but the innumerable burning candles on stones and candlesticks baffled him. Were there candle makers down here? Where? What did they use for the production of wax? And why even bother making, arranging and lighting all these candles when the Pthumerians displayed familiarity with less fussy lighting solutions? Was it a ritual?

As his mind puzzled over the lit candles, the altar shifted and... it rose, higher and higher, turning away from him until a blood-curdling sight was revealed to the eyes of the scholar. Strange tumorous growths covered the legs of the rising monster, its abdomen was a mass of torn flesh, hanging in ribbons from under a tattered hood. Laurence saw little else, as once it stood straight, the giant creature towered over him, thrice the height of a normal man, candles still burning bright somewhere on the nape of its neck. Laurence stared in morbid fascination as the giant lifted its misshapen arms. Its hands were... no, these were not hands, they were blades, and even as they came down on him, the young scholar only watched, unable to move.

There was a blur of gray and a tall man stepped between him and the falling blade, blocking it with his sword, and hacking one of the arms clean off with the next few blows. He engaged the giant, slashing at it until it recoiled. The man continued driving the creature away from Laurence, who still stood frozen in place, now taken aback not only by the monster, but also by the man who fought it. Before the rest of expedition managed to react to the commotion, the giant was dead. Its limp body toppled to the ground, the thud finally attracting the attention of others.

The tall man looked back at Laurence and judging the scholar to be safe and unscathed, he marched away to join the other huntsmen. Laurence followed him with his eyes, awed by the grace with which the hunter moved. It clashed with his herculean build.  As did his elegant profile. Such visage was in itself quite unbelievable and shockingly out of place - a perfect knight gallant from a ballad come to life, strolling through a rotting tomb.

Laurence took a moment to process that.

“I told you not to go sneaking off into dark corners like that, you suicidal zounderkite! Are you even listening to me? You almost got yourself killed, Laurence!” Gehrman hissed. He had appeared out of nowhere, chastising Laurence the moment the rest of the party turned its attention elsewhere. “Laurence, stop staring at his arse and listen to me.”

Laurence blinked and looked up at Gehrman. “Huh?”

The First Hunter glared at him skeptically. “Don’t even dream of wooing that one, you lecherous shrimp. The coach he came in was probably worth more than your family’s estate.”

“I highly doubt that,” Laurence retorted.

“It’s cause you didn’t see it. Princesses and countesses probably fight over him back home, so spare yourself the embarrassment and aim lower.”

“Like yourself?” Laurence snorted.

“Like myself. Nothing wrong with good old Gehrman.”

“Boring old Gehrman.”

“Oh, bugger off.” Gehrman rolled his eyes. “One way or another, if you want to shag someone in this room that isn’t me, there’s plenty Pthumerians to go around.”

“Oh, ha ha.”

They shared a moment of amicable silence, after which Gehrman’s expression turned serious again. “Stay close to me, or some other hunter if you like. Master Willem will kill me if his star student dies on my watch.”

“Nice to hear that you care so much for my safety.” Laurence smirked.

Gehrman brushed a stray lock of dark hair out of Laurence’s bespectacled eyes. Then he rejoined the tomb prospectors and minutes later the expedition moved on. And as it did, Laurence trotted livelily to try and keep up with his monumental savior. Gehrman was probably right, and having uncouth interests towards the man was pointless, but he could still use the protection.

“Thank you for saving my life,” Laurence offered, tilting his head up to look at the hunter. He had to jog to keep up with the man’s wide steps. “I remember we’ve been briefly introduced, but I failed to catch anyone’s names. My name is Laurence.”

The man seemed surprised to have been addressed. Arching his dark eyebrows, he looked down to his side where the small scholar suddenly sprouted, and smiled. "Ah, you are quite welcome. My name is Ludwig, and there really is naught to thank me for. I came to Yharnam to do this exactly. These labyrinths offer quite the thrill, do they not?"

“My pleasure. And absolutely, I fancy the jungles of the far south pale in comparison.” Laurence pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped away the sweat that began beading on his forehead. Even this little hurried trot took a tremendous toll on his sickly physique. He would not be able to keep this tempo for long. “No tiger or lion could offer a challenge like one of these hulking revenants of the past. And it’s for a good purpose.”  

“I certainly agree. No animal is quite as unpredictable as these creatures, and surely no game I have hunted before has ever set traps for the huntsmen. It almost seems like these creatures are capable of logical thoughts like our own, as if they expected us to come here.” Ludwig seemed to have noticed Laurence’s condition because he slowed down, mindful of his companion.

“Yes, centuries ago, they must have set up measures against intruders such as us. The Pthumerians were a highly developed civilization, there’s little doubt of that. The sheer vastness of these labyrinths is a testament to their former greatness.” Laurence gestured around them with his notebook. “And yet as it happened to other ancient civilizations in the past, though never to such an extent, the Pthumerians had fallen into a barbaric state, and now they are beyond reasoning with. The creatures you hunt are merely degenerated wretches retaining the semblance of a human form. Putting them out of their misery is an act of mercy. We have attempted communication with the captured specimens, but aside from an almost automatic routine set of actions and reactions they showed no sign of intelligence and not a hint of human emotion.”

As they walked at Laurence’s pace now they were soon overtaken by other tomb prospectors eager for action, and a concerned expression passed over Ludwig's face but the noble turned out to be too well mannered to mention it. The man seemed relieved by what he heard. He nodded, “It is clearly as you say, they’ve nought of humanity left in them, they act as beasts and thus we slay them as such. You claim all this research you conduct on gathered samples and artifacts excavated from this maze, is for good purpose. What do you hope to achieve, if I may ask?”

“The university’s main purpose is the quest for enlightenment and with it betterment of humanity. My personal interest is in the realm of medicine. The monstrous beings of the depths display a supernatural resilience. I only hope we can uncover their secret and-”

“Your Lordship, Sir!” Gehrman called out from far ahead. “I would be grateful if you could join us, there is another one of those bloated pale bastards guarding a lever in the next room.”

“Coming! I do apologize,” Ludwig added the latter quietly, and assuring that he was pleased to have made Laurence’s acquaintance, the hunter marched away to join up with the vanguard of the expedition.

Laurence gave Gehrman a glare and received a veiled crude gesture in return.

He watched Ludwig go and rejoin the majority of the hunters up ahead. The scholars to his sides were each minding their own business. Laurence glanced down at his hands. He was almost as pale as the Pthumerians. And unless the ancients soon shared their wisdom and presented him with a cure for his ailments in several years he would be just as bony as the most pitiful of those wretches. And blind. Not metaphorically like the lot of them, but factually and permanently bereft of sight. And from that point on no measure of cosmic insight could possibly help him.

* * *

Laurence gazed at his hands bathed in the bright moonlight. His palms were delicate and smooth like those of a fine work of art. His nightgown outlined the full, almost plump shape of his abdomen, that had once been all angles, visible ribs and a concave stomach. His glasses lay on the bedside table and yet even in this dim light he could make out single dark hairs on Ludwig’s jaw. All of this he owed to the Old Blood. Without it he would have long been blind or possibly even dead.

Master Willem was a fool. A rich, healthy, old man who willfully blinded himself with fancy headgear to accelerate enlightenment while Laurence’s youth had been a chain of illnesses with a promise of blindness looming just ahead. He did the right thing, when he left Byrgenwerth. Master Willem could go bathe in gauged out eyes for all he cared. The Old Blood was a blessing, not a thing to be feared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Psst, please leave us a comment if you're reading this fic! :3


	4. Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ludwig sees something he wasn't supposed to.

Ludwig knew that the vicar was not to be disturbed when he conducted experiments with other researchers, but the matter was of such importance that he would rather consult Laurence beforehand than make this decision alone. He was going to knock, he told himself, come in only if invited and take no more than a minute of the vicar's time. 

As he approached the laboratory, Ludwig was mildly surprised to note the door was ajar. Had the experiment been already concluded then? He partially expected to see an empty room. 

Instead, he saw something utterly shocking to say the least. 

The vicar of the Healing Church was seated on a table among jars, notes and laboratory equipment, in the arms of another cleric. Laurence’s robes were lifted and his legs spread. There was a flush of passion on his face. His head was tilted back in a show of ecstasy as the other man took him roughly.

Ludwig froze in the door, hand that was reaching out to knock falling lifelessly by his side. He couldn’t believe what he saw. Laurence wasn’t… Laurence would never… He turned his head away but he still heard them. Laurence grunted and chuckled, clearly enjoying himself.

They didn’t see him. He left in a hurry, and spent the evening trying in turns not to think about it, and intensely analyse the possible reasons behind this occurrence. All the while he tried not to blame the vicar. There must have been an explanation and doubtlessly, Laurence was going to enlighten him.

Laurence didn't show up until late evening. Ludwig assumed that he would explain himself as soon as they met for supper, maybe after it, but Laurence didn’t even mention it. When Ludwig asked him about the experiment, trying to coax him into confession, he spoke about the actual science and then changed the topic. At night he came to Ludwig’s chambers like nothing had ever happened and even when Ludwig was reluctant to get close, Laurence noticed naught and only voiced his understanding of his hunter’s tiredness. He then admitted to being quite worn out himself and he lay down on his side, draping Ludwig’s arm around himself. He fell asleep minutes after his head touched the pillows.

Ludwig could barely sleep. For long, restless hours, terrible thoughts were plaguing his mind. They continued haunting his dreams even after he finally succumbed to exhaustion. 

In the morning nothing changed. Laurence still acted as if everything was in perfect order as he made himself ready for another day of work. Ludwig waited in vain for him to turn around and tell him that there was something they should discuss. But the vicar only went on about the disturbing rumors spreading through Old Yharnam concerning some fantastic beast on the loose. The unrest in that district was growing again and Laurence felt it needed to be addressed as soon as possible. They couldn't have the populace fearing for their safety under the eye of the church. Speeches had to be made, reassuring public appearances and of course search parties and patrols all had to be arranged. Him and Ludwig were going to have a lot on their plates.

Ludwig decided to give Laurence some more time. After all they were both in hurry to attend their duties with no time for a conversation. He tried not to dwell on it in the meantime, but his mind refused to clear. The thoughts once stirred, kept boiling in the hunter’s head all day. He felt a constant sting in his chest but he did not wish to put a name on these emotions, did not want to accuse or assume. He exercised his patience, in hopes for the vicar to approach him about the incident at his earliest convenience. 

Laurence didn’t.

During the day there had been at least three opportunities for them to talk alone, but the vicar made no attempt to do so. By the end of the day, it was quite evident that Laurence had no intention of bringing it up. Ludwig however, could no longer keep his feelings inside him.

When they retired for the evening, this time in Laurence’s quarters, Ludwig faced his unfaithful lover. Laurence was just about to slip out of his ceremonial robes, but seeing his towering hunter approach he paused. He gave Ludwig a carefree smile.

“Is there something you’d like to tell me, Laurence?”

The vicar’s smile faltered. He frowned at Ludwig’s gloomy demeanor. “No. But it appears there is something you want to hear. What is it, my love?” He took a step closer and reached for Ludwig’s large hand. His frown deepened when Ludwig withdrew from the friendly gesture. The vicar looked up at him with concern.

“Really? There is nothing you think worthy of sharing with me?” Ludwig could barely believe the simple ‘No’ that Laurence so readily gave.

“Not anything of note…” Laurence replied quickly, but his eyes searched Ludwig’s. They widened, and the vicar gasped in surprise. “Oh, Ludwig, you didn’t happen to… Oh, the Great Ones…” Laurence gripped the front of his own robe, looking away in shame. “I am... so sorry you had to witness that, my love,” Laurence began softly. His eyebrows furrowed, his shoulders slacked. “I have acted most indecently and worst of all, it appears exposed you to that shameful transgression.” 

The vicar shrunk with guilt, falling silent for a moment.

Then he continued. “Even those of us with the strongest will sometimes experience momentary weaknesses. I am only human and thus susceptible to such unfortunate fits of passion.” Laurence turned to face Ludwig and his expression was that of a repenting sinner gazing up at a holy relic. “But believe me when I say that it is you and you only that I hold dear. There is no space for another man in my heart.”

Ludwig looked at him for a long time, arms crossed on his chest. He'd expected an honest answer... and Laurence just gave him one. He didn't try to argue his innocence, or even defend himself. It seemed that the vicar was genuinely saddened and guilty. Suddenly Ludwig wanted to reassure him, to let him know he forgave him and trusted him. 

He stopped himself in the last moment. 

This did not feel right. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Ludwig recounted all the rumours he'd heard throughout his service in the Healing Church, all the allegations cast at the vicar, and finally, all the times Laurence went away on important business or had to conduct experiments just like the day before. It all turned into a litany of whispers and murmurs painting a disastrous landscape of infidelity, and Ludwig ground his teeth, and shook his head. No, Laurence couldn't have been doing this. Not while they were together. It must have been just like the vicar said, a fit of passion bringing about a moment of weakness.

Laurence looked at him, clearly alarmed by the sudden gesture. “If there is anything I can do to atone for my transgression…”

"I forgive you Laurence. And I believe you. I just don't understand why you would hide this from me. I waited all evening and the entire day, hoping you would be the one to approach me about this. Meanwhile, from morning till dusk you are going about your day as if nothing had ever happened." If he had fallen prey to a momentary weakness like this, he would have been eaten by guilt and begging for forgiveness mere hours later. And surely, he wouldn't be able to act like it was nothing until the last moment before his lover confronted him. Then again, the vicar's mind had always worked in a different way, that was at times too intricate to comprehend. Maybe this was just another such difference between them. Regardless, Ludwig wished to hear an answer.

“I am the last man to admit my own weakness, I’m afraid,” Laurence said with a sigh. “I did not wish to trouble you with my failure. You had no part in this misdeed, so I could not shift this burden on you as well. I’d thought you ignorant of the matter and aimed to keep it that way.”

Ludwig stayed silent for a while after that, thinking on the vicar’s words. Now that he understood Laurence’s motivations, the betrayal hurt a little less, but he still didn’t want to leave it this way. “You are not a weak man Laurence, and even if you falter, I am by your side. Should you ever fall prey to such weakness again, or should anything else trouble you, please, do not hesitate to tell me of it. No matter what it shall be, I wish to always be there for you to lean on and I will help you through it. Can you promise me that should you ever find yourself in need, you will reach out to me?”

“Yes, my love.” Laurence smiled with relief in his eyes. “I promise,” he lied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #LudwigDeservesBetter2016  
> Psst, please leave us a comment if you're reading this fic! :3


	5. Outdated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now for something completely different.
> 
> Gehrman contemplates his life and choices, briefly.

Gehrman stood at the edge of a terrace watching the wards of the church orphanage play in the presently barren gardens below. It was a sunny day and clouds of dust rose in the air when the youngsters moved their games off the paved pathways and onto the bare earth. 

The smartest of the lot would one day join the Choir, while the less mentally capable would fuel other branches of the Healing Church. Gehrman rubbed his chin watching a particular head of blond hair as it moved in and out of his sight in a large group of children playing in a far corner of the yard. Maria was growing up to be a beautiful young lass. 

“You come here unusually often these days. I never took you for a child lover.” 

“What?” Gehrman started, glaring at the vicar in outrage. Laurence had somehow sneaked up on him. Drat that light-stepping gerbil. 

“Do you think it's hard to notice how you stare at that Cainhurst girl?” 

“Gods above, Laurence, can't a man observe children at play? Everything is some deviant eccentricity with you!" Gehrman was painfully reminded of just why he had distanced himself from the man after several years of sporadic intimacy. Laurence was just too much for him. For anyone really. 

“Hm.” The vicar shrugged. "You can lie to yourself, but you won't fool me. I don't care one way or another. You are my friend and I couldn't deny you your strange commoner whims.” 

“Enough.” 

The smug look on the vicar's face told him nothing of whether Laurence really meant what he said or not. 

"I'm watching the girl, because she's got potential. As a hunter, an apprentice." 

“ _Aha_.”

Gehrman ignored the vicar's intonation and went on "She is a bastard, some noble's love child who was brought up with his legitimate offspring until the father's death resulted in the rest of the family sending her away. She can fence. At this young age. I've seen her teaching other children with a broomstick for a sword.” 

"She's yours." 

" _Laurence_ ," Gehrman hissed. 

"I mean take her, raise her as your own, teach her, do what you like. I have orphans to spare." 

"Are you serious?" 

"Yes." 

Great Ones be damned, he looked serious. 

"I need to think on this, I'm quite busy in the workshop," Gehrman grumbled, turning away to look at neither the children nor Laurence. 

"Think. I will leave instructions that should you arrive at a decision you would have the clearance to act on it.” 

"Thanks." He glanced back at Laurence. Despite the filthy mind and questionable moral standards the man was a good friend and all in all a rather well-meaning fellow. He surely expressed it in the strangest ways. 

Laurence caught the hunter’s judgemental stare and flashed a toothy grin. “I will see you later.” 

The vicar moved his spectacles up his nose and looking very content with himself departed. 

Gehrman watched him leave with a dull ache of something that had once been more than just friendship echoing in his heart. For a moment he wanted to call out after Laurence, ask him if he was free in the afternoon, if he would want to drop by the workshop. But he knew that nothing would come of it. When the deed was done Laurence would slip out of his bed or his lap and gravitate to his prince charming Ludwig. And even though Gehrman missed what they’d once had, the knowledge he could never truly have it back stifled his outdated feelings. 

The First Hunter leaned on the railing and returned to observing the children, trying to repress all thoughts of what had and could have been. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A man likes spending time around children? Must be a pedophile. - Laurence logic.
> 
> Sorry for Laurence's terrible sense of humor (and overall terribleness). One way or another, comments are most welcome! :3


	6. Yours for All Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurray, we finally updated! XD;
> 
> Recommended soundtrack for this chapter: http://picosong.com/DMSw and http://picosong.com/DMJp

It was supposed to be a romantic evening just for the two of them, a sanctuary from all the worries and whispers that were spreading over the Cathedral Ward like a spiderweb. Yet as Ludwig led him through the courtyards, all Laurence could think about were the bodies he’d been shown earlier that day. They looked like the beasts he’d seen brought back from some of the underground labyrinths. But these ones had been hunted down above ground. It explained the rumors in Old Yharnam, but presented another mystery, namely how did the monsters even end up there? The holy chalice was in its rightful place and no hunter admitted to having touched it in months. Gehrman was investigating the matter, so there still was a chance they could find the culprit. But Laurence felt uneasy. Beasts had no place in his city.

They stopped and a gentle touch on his shoulder finally shook the vicar out of his reverie. Their destination proved to be the terrace outlooking Yharnam, one of their favourite places for evening walks that have been growing ever scarcer in the last months with too much on their hands and minds.

Laurence looked out onto the city. It was an uplifting view. Despite the recent troubling developments Yharnam was still a blossoming marvel, a place of pilgrimage and a beacon of hope. And they were the ones who made it happen. Hope and contentment forced the dark thoughts out of the vicar’s mind and he turned to Ludwig with a smile.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” he said, looking up at the tall man by his side. “This view is enough to heal the most hopelessly heartsick of men.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Ludwig met his gaze and the hunter’s expression grew more mysterious. “Do you know why I wanted us to come here tonight?” 

“No.” Laurence shook his head and looked at him questioningly.

The church hunter rested his hands on the railing and gazed at the horizon, smiling softly. 

"Twenty years ago today, I knelt before you on this very terrace and I made a vow. I promised to be your champion, to be ever by your side. Do you remember?" 

“Yes, I do,” Laurence replied gently. How could he forget? The memory of that evening was a grand jewel in his collection, one of many treasures Ludwig had spoilt him with over the years.

The leader of Church Hunters turned to look at the vicar and his smile turned a bit wry, "Of course, little have I known back then that all the rumours about you were true. I wouldn't believe them for years to come. I would have never imagined what a mean and awful person you can be sometimes. That you could look me in the eye and lie through your teeth. That I would so often find you in another's arms. Now I know. I do. And you know what, Laurence? In perspective it does not matter. I don't regret the choice I made that day. You've tried my patience time after time but I still love you dearly. And against my better judgement, I probably always will. I have a gift for you today."

The church hunter turned back towards his vicar and a gleam of gold appeared in his gloved hand as he extended it towards Laurence. A golden pocket watch on a finest golden chain.

"I want you to have this. Because in the end, no matter what, you've always found the time for me and you. Because just like the hand of the clock, once separated from the other, you've always made your way back to me."

Ludwig looked at the vicar expectantly. He was tired, both of them were, but in his eyes played the light of the same devotion that had been there on that day, two decades ago. Weathered and tried, but still burning bright.

Laurence took the watch and opened it, checking for an inscription. It did not disappoint. “Yours for all time - Ludwig,” Laurence read and snorted. He watched his hunter with a dose of amusement which slowly faded into a look of profound fondness. “Thank you, Lu. For the watch and for… for your love, for your devotion. For bearing a brat like me for twenty years.” Laurence laughed softly. He lifted his glasses to rub one of his eyes, looking away not to let Ludwig see, just how touched he really was. It did not work and he found himself in the other man’s arms. Laurence pressed against his lover’s mighty form and closed his eyes, trying to hear Ludwig’s heartbeat. The ticking of the watch came to him instead, and that satisfied the vicar.

He pulled away after a moment and looked up Ludwig tenderly. “I will always love you. And no matter what, I will always return,” he assured the hunter and pulled Ludwig down into a kiss. 

“I know,” Ludwig sighed, pulling the vicar close again. "You better, anyway, or I'll gift you a different chain next time.” He added as he finally let go. 

At that, they both laughed, exchanging meaningful smirks.

They spent some more time there together. Not too much because they both still had duties to attend to. But even though the work was hard and the feeling of unrest was slowly growing in their hearts, they still had strength to go on. For the Old Blood that ran in their veins kept them young and promised salvation to all of Yharnam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The alternative title for this chapter/inscription is Yours for All Time, You Little Shit - Ludwig
> 
> :P


	7. The Hunters’ Workshop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the vicar and his knight errant exchange gifts and pleasantries, Gehrman and the Workshop hunters are about to form a union and go on strike.

“Ah, if it isn’t His Reverence, in person, coming to grace our humble abode with his presence.”

Laurence ignored the mocking tone and stepped inside. The Hunters’ Workshop was almost empty. Only Gehrman and his protégé were still up this late in the morning. Maria turned to look at him from behind her mentor and bowed courteously. Her beautiful eyes were red and lined with dark circles. So were Gehrman’s. There were old bloodstains on their garbs, and the stench of beasts that permeated the workshop seemed to grow only thicker around the two of them. Laurence winced as he approached the hunters.

“You wanted to speak to me?”

“Yes, a week ago.”

“I was busy.”

“Getting shagged by everything on two legs I imagine.”

“What is this about?” Laurence asked sharply.

“If you care to pull your head up from under Ludwig’s tunic, you might notice there’s a bit of a situation in the town. How can I put it?” Gehrman brought a finger to his chin in fake thoughtfulness. “Old Yharnam has an itsy bitsy beast problem. Or rather... it’s crawling with bloody beasts, and soon they’ll have to move their act to the next part of town, because the locals will be all gobbled up! How about that!?”

Maria stayed silent, only shutting her eyes when Gehrman’s speech turned to shouting. After a moment she just turned to the scythe resting on the workbench and resumed the repairs.

Laurence and Gehrman exchanged long hateful looks.

“Let’s step outside,” the vicar hissed.

“Fine.”

The cool fresh air was a momentary relief, but even with the flowers blooming all around the workshop the pungent smell remained dominant. It hung around Gehrman like a silent testimony of the hunter’s nightly vigil.

“I am sorry, I didn’t realize it was this bad down here. I was with the other scholars, trying to find the cause of this mess. Until we know where the monsters come from we’re only treating the symptoms, not the source of the problem.”

Gehrman sneered, but his anger slowly died down, letting exhaustion show in his expression and posture.

“We cannot manage it, Laurence. There’s too many of them. The church hunters need to join us full force, in the open. We can’t keep the whole thing under covers. Rumors aren’t just rumors anymore. Too many folks are missing, too many shadows are lurking. You have to address the people and send in reinforcements.”

Laurence stared down at the path curling through the garden below them. He bit his lip and played with the chain of his new pocket watch. Gehrman was right. As always. He was a fool for believing this mess could be sorted without letting the populace know. Now they had no choice. The people would know soon, and it would be better if they found out through the Church.

“I understand. I will pass this information to Ludwig. If you have the strength for it, we could meet right away and discuss in what capacity and numbers the church hunters would be most useful to you up here above ground.” Laurence gave Gehrman a sympathetic look. The hunter did look terrible. “I would like to continue the underground ventures. The problem hails from there, so that is where I hope to find the solution.”

Gehrman gave him a long tired look. “I’m afraid the Pthumerians might have buried themselves for a reason.” He turned and walked back towards the workshop.

Laurence stared blankly ahead, feeling his stomach turn at the possibility of Gehrman being right once more.

“But do get Ludwig and start writing your sly little speeches. I want reinforcements today. Another night like this one, and I’ll turn into a beast myself.”

Laurence turned to see Gehrman give him a tired, but somewhat amused look.

“And then I’m going to eat you.”

Both of them laughed.


	8. Another Solution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old Yharnam is like a festering wound, and the hunters are hardly coping. Some nights are worse than others. Then they get yelled at.

“You are the commander of the church hunters, not a scout, not an outrider! You are their bloody commander!” Laurence yelled. “Do you know what that means? Well, let me spell it out for you! You do not charge headfirst into battle! You direct your people, you lead them, but it doesn’t mean you have to be physically ahead of them!”

The vicar of the Healing Church paced across the room in furious circles. Every now and then he stopped to grip one of the bedposts and give Ludwig a particularly angry glare.

“Do you have any concept of caution? Prudence? Or is that pretty black-maned head of yours only filled with dreams of postmortem recognition? How many monuments do I need to erect to appease your bravado? Or maybe a single huge tombstone saying “Here lies Ludwig The Holy Blade, he was so brave he died”? Is that what you want?”

Ludwig lay on the hospital bed in silence, waiting until Laurence was done. Arguing was pointless, he’d learnt that by now. Those kind of berating sessions usually ended after the vicar ran out of breath. 

But not this time. Breathless, Laurence was still going.

“Look at you! You’ve used up more bandages than a hospital in old Yharnam! I heard they had to stitch you together from separate pieces!” Laurence stopped pacing and put the spared energy into yelling even louder than before. “What were you thinking? Go ahead, enlighten me! Or did you lose your tongue in battle?”

Ludwig finally spared him a tired scowl.

"What do you want me to say? That next time I will just step aside and watch my men get slaughtered? That I will hide in the back while they face the beasts without their leader in sight? Have you ever heard of a thing called morale?"

“Oh, their morale will be just great if you die in front of them!” 

"This is a war, Laurence and someone has to stand up and fight. If I am slain, so be it. I'd rather perish in battle than die a coward."

Laurence marched over to him and punched Ludwig in the shoulder. It wasn’t much of a hit, but Ludwig still cringed. Before he could complain, Laurence sunk to his knees by the bed. His small delicate hands found Ludwig’s own bandaged ones and gripped onto them. Anger was seeping out of his expression, pushed out by sadness.

“Please, don’t say such things. I beg of you, be careful. If not for yourself, then for me, for Yharnam. Who will lead the Church Hunters if you die? Who will-...” Laurence did not finish. Instead he burst into tears and buried his face in the covers. His hands gripped Ludwig’s even more fiercely.

The vicar wept like a child. Loud, shaking, without any composure or grace. Ludwig had never seen him cry before. No matter what was happening, Laurence always kept his cool. He could get angry, of course, and then he darted out words no worse than Ludwig wielded his sword. But he never let emotion take over. He never let it make him weak. Now he choked on his own sobs, losing breath, fingers frantically tangling with Ludwig’s like he was afraid he could lose him here and now if he let go even for a moment.

“I can’t lose you! Please! Don’t do this to me!”

Ludwig's resolve fell. He sighed as he reciprocated the touch. As he spoke, his voice was calm. "I am not doing this to spite you, Laurence. All of my hunters constantly put their lives on the line. For Yharnam, for you and everything you stand for. It warms my heart to know you need me so, and I would love nothing more than to promise you that I shall not die, but I cannot. Yharnam is in turmoil, the beast scourge is upon us and someone has to stand ground lest it swallows us. Until we find a way to put an end to this unrest, I have to be there and fight. Please understand."

“Then I will find a way. We will get more hunters, better weapons. Anything. But please don’t be so reckless. If the price of protecting this city is to be your life, I would rather level it all than lose you!” 

“I was not being reckless. Gehrman sent for me and the other hunters while we were in the underground labyrinth. If we had not hurried-”

“I know! People would die! Gehrman would die! I don’t care!”

"How can you not care? These are your people. By the Blood, Laurence, Gehrman is your friend. He used to be your-"

“To Hell with the lot of them! I can live without any of them, I can’t live without you, you big lump! So if you go and get yourself killed, consider me dead as well.” Laurence snarled, tears streaming out of his eyes. His face was swollen from crying and he was shaking, but his eyes held the grim determination of an obsessed man. “Promise to me, that you will do your best not to die. That you will value your safety and survival more.”

"Oh, Laurence." Ludwig reached out and pulled Laurence up from the floor, enclosing his bandaged arms around the vicar's small figure. "You know I value everyone's lives. And despite what you say I do not doubt you do too. Anger speaks through you now, but you need to calm down and pull yourself together. Remember what we wanted to build. A safe haven for all, a place of pilgrimage. And we have built it, but now we need to defend it. I do not crave death, and you can be sure that I will never willingly throw myself in its open arms. Please trust me."

Laurence clung to him, tears rolling down his face and dripping onto layers of bandages. He closed his eyes and buried his face in Ludwig’s hair. The Hunter still smelled of beasts, gore and gunpowder. None of these scents were pleasant, but they were better than the ones of the hospital. Ludwig did not belong here, and Laurence would make sure the hunter didn’t have to linger in these walls. It wasn’t just him that needed Ludwig alive and well, the city needed him more than ever. But that meant he would have to send his lover into peril again and again, until the threat was gone. Laurence sniffed, nuzzling close to his hunter. Of course he trusted Ludwig. He trusted him to do his best, but under current circumstances his best was a close approximation of a death sentence. He needed to find another solution.

With a heavy sigh Laurence withdrew from the embrace. He cupped Ludwig’s face with both hands and looked deep into his eyes. “Keep yourself safe. Please. To the best of your ability. Without a commander of your experience and skill our efforts are doomed to fail. I know you are no fool and have no death wish, but please, be extra careful from now on, alright? Remember of the thousands of lives you can save by staying alive before you risk dying to save a few.”

There was a momentary silence as Ludwig considered whether it was worth to even argue. There were still so many things he could bring up. But as he looked at Laurence’s messy hair and tear-stained face, he decided against it.

“Of course.” He nodded.

“Thank you, my love.” Laurence leaned closer and pecked him on the forehead. “Now rest and recuperate.”

With that he wiped his face dry with a handkerchief and left. Once in the corridor, Laurence took a deep breath and headed for the other room, where an equally bandaged Gehrman lay, unaware he was in for the lion’s share of furious reprimanding. After all, it was his plea for help that got Ludwig so badly injured.


	9. Conflagration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Men and women of Old Yharnam are turning into beasts. But it is the clerics that make the most terrifying monsters.

Smoke rose over Old Yharnam. Fires burned in the twisted bystreets, the chokingly narrow courtyards, the empty alleyways and squares through which the rare passerby hurried in a state near panic.

The Scourge, a strange incomprehensible illness had befallen the inhabitants of the quarter. One after another the good people of Old Yharnam went quite mad, grew unsightly amounts of hair and claws and attacked their fellow men. The bodies of those beyond help had to be burned. There was simply not enough time or space to handle them in any other way.

Laurence watched the dark thin pillars of smoke from the bell tower of a church just outside the illness-stricken quarter. 

What was this baffling sickness men called the Scourge? Why had it come to his city? And why to this district of all? It was no slum, it was a proper if poorer part of town, lesser and not half as grand and busy as the rest of now formidable city of Yharnam, but no cloaca of filth to spawn such an abominable illness.

Then why would a plague so horrid strike it? Deep in his heart Laurence suspected the answer, but it was too horrible to voice it. They had to venture further into the underground realm of death and decay, uncover its secrets.

Or was it perhaps something else from those very dungeons? A contaminant of some sort? But no, the hunters who had ventured there were fine and well, it was the civilians that fell to this new and terrible sickness. Perhaps it was a further stage of ashen blood, maybe treating it with the Old Blood had been a mistake. Just that. Ashen blood. Not the Old Blood. No. If it were the Old Blood that had caused this crisis, he would have noticed some foul effects much earlier. He alone had imbibed at least as much of the healing blood as a wing of a large hospital.

And he was perfectly fine. Better even. If not for the Old Blood he would never have lived this long. Hardly any man could boast such vigor and health at his age, and without the blood he wouldn’t have made it to half his years.

Then it had to be something about old Yharnam. The people down there had to be somehow at fault. Perhaps the generous miracles of the Church had left them feeling too lax, too secure, perhaps they thought they would be saved from any malaise they brought upon themselves. 

Everyday his hunters had to risk their lives to protect the population from the madmen of Old Yharnam. Everyday Ludwig led the Hunt, putting himself into grave danger. A danger that spawned and multiplied in this one meager district, in this shuttered less than respectable community. Laurence glared at the gods-forsaken district. His pale hands gripped the railing so tight his knuckles grew white.

What a waste of the holy blood! What a band of brigands and worthless mongrels! A den of beasts!

The columns of smoke swelled, growing and combining until they were one enormous pillar joining the sky and the earth. Fire engulfed Old Yharnam. Laurence could almost feel the heat of the conflagration. The air was filled with the stench of burning flesh and the screams of men and women. Children. Roasting alive.

The cacophony of horror twisted and morphed into the howling of a thousand beastly throats. Beasts! All of them! Every single one of them! Worthy of nothing but eradication!

Now the plague would finally be over and Yharnam would once again become the paradise he had envisioned! Enlightenment was at his fingertips! 

Laurence looked down at his hands on the railing. Grey hair was breaking through the skin, curling and tangling on his palms and fingers. Long black claws shot out from his fingertips and dug into the stones, leaving deep marks. Laurence recoiled in horror and his scream was that of a frightened animal. 

How could this be?! How could this be happening to him? He was nothing like those degenerates! His blood was of the purest, noblest, most blessed kind! He had sifted so much of the Old Blood through his veins he was almost Pthumerian royalty by now! They were the beasts, not him! He was no monster! 

He smashed the railing to pieces and howled.

The vicar of the Healing Church stirred and opened his eyes. It was dark. He was in bed. It was a dream. Just a dream, a nightmare, a figment of his imagination. Nothing else. He grasped at his own hands feeling for any abnormalities.

There were none. Smooth hands of a scholar with neatly trimmed nails.

He breathed out heavily. It was a dream.

Of course it was a dream. He would have never turned his back on his people like that. It was nothing but a nightmare born of frustration and fear. A large chunk of gruesome phantasmagorical nonsense, unworthy of proper consideration.

Still, his heart would not rest. It pounded against his ribs ever so violently. It was the lingering impression of reality that dream had held. The certainty, the dreadful certainty that the Scourge was the product of his very own blood ministration. How plausible was that? Too plausible. Laurence curled up into an anxious ball of negation. No. It was nonsense. The Scourge's victims were indeed patients of the church, but if the blood were the cause it would have been him, the scholars and the hunters that should have succumbed long before the ordinary Yharnamites. Or was it something about the regularity of exposure or dosage…

Laurence's stomach turned. He brought his hands close to his face. Even now that his eyes had adjusted to the dark he could hardly see them. Without his spectacles and without an excess of Old Blood coursing through his veins, he saw only patches of blurred colors, puddles of dark and light. No. He had consumed so much blood that had it been that, he would have been a beast a long time ago.

"Laurence, is something the matter?"

Ludwig. His restless shuffling must have woken the other man.

"No," Laurence said with fake sturdiness. "It is naught but a bad dream."

Ludwig pulled him close and with his back pressed against the warm muscular body of the church hunter, Laurence finally felt himself relax. He let the other man kiss his hair and whisper words of comfort into his ear until he slipped back into a dreamless sleep.


	10. Just a Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another night, another nightmare...

Laurence’s eyes shot wide open. Another nightmare. They haunted him almost every night now. Terrible dreams filled with twisting flesh and claws and pools of blood. Blood that he thirsted for so terribly.

The vicar gripped his head, trying to force the images out of his mind. Slowly they faded. Laurence breathed heavily. At least Ludwig wasn’t around to see him like this. It was enough that one of them was going through this turmoil. Laurence let go of his head and sunk back into the bed. His body ached. It was the troubled sleep, he was sure of it. He would need to take more Old Blood. He covered his eyes.

Then he took his hand away.

Claws, dark crooked talons. Laurence gasped. His fingers were long and gnarled like branches of a dying tree. Gray fur covered the back of his palm, disappearing under the edge of his sleeve. The vicar of the Healing Church tumbled out of his bed. On shaking, deformed legs he stumbled through the room to the mirror.

Mangy fur lined his distorted face. His mouth opened in horror and his teeth were sharp and non-human.

Laurence gripped his face, feeling a rush of panic.

No, it simply could not be true. No, he couldn’t. He… It had to be a dream, it had to be.

Laurence stared at the monstrous lanky figure in the mirror and denied that it could be him. No, he was human. This was another horrid dream.

Enough of these nightmares! He would not be a slave to delusions!

The vicar glared at his reflection, and it bared its teeth in an animalistic snarl. He looked at his hands and made an effort of will. He was an experienced lucid dreamer, now that he was aware he was dreaming he would make the nightmare go away. He stared at the unfamiliar hands. They were not his, his hands were delicate, his fingers proportionate and elegant. His nails were never this long either! He glared at his hands, focusing all of his faculties on who he was and how he really looked.

Slowly, inch by inch the claws retracted. Bones seemed to wind tight like springs, and the gray fur burrowed into skin.

Laurence breathed heavily with mental exertion.

He looked up into the mirror.

His usual self stared back at him. Worn out, somewhat sickly, but other than that completely normal. Laurence smiled at himself. It was just a dream after all. And if this was a lucid dream now he deserved a little bit of pleasure for all the hard work. Laurence tried to will himself to fly. His feet did not leave the ground. Odd. But it didn’t always work.

He turned to look at one of his book shelves. Dreams had the funny quality that you couldn’t quite read in them. It always amused him to try. He picked a book at random and read a few lines.

He re-read them again. And again. He focused really hard on the text, whispering as he repeated the very same line a fourth time.

It did not change.

Laurence pinched himself. It hurt.

He willed himself to wake.

Nothing happened.

Well, then he must have woken at some point.

Laurence looked at his own body again.

No, this was nonsense. He did not turn into a beast. He must have dreamt of it and sleepwalked to this spot, then forced himself awake to see his normal reflection.

The vicar sighed with relief.

What stressful delusions. The trouble in Old Yharnam was truly taking a great toll on his psyche. He could only imagine how bad it must have been for Ludwig.

Laurence shook his head and walked back toward the bed. The floor was cold under his feet, so he headed for the nearest carpet to continue his walk over it. He stopped.

The carpet was in shreds. Deep claw marks ran over the floor, like a bear had spent the night defacing the room. There were feathers on the floor too and the shreds of a pillow. The covers on the side of the bed where Ludwig normally slept were in ribbons.

Laurence’s legs gave out under him. He sunk to the destroyed floor. On his knees among the shreds of carpet and scattered feathers he surveyed his own handiwork.

His teeth and bones ached, constrained, craving to grow and stretch. His skin itched, suppressing thick gray fur. His stomach growled for blood.

The vicar covered his mouth with his hands and howled.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Any comments you might have are loved, as always <3


	11. Ignorance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ludwig is blissfully unaware of the terrible and tragic things happening just outside his line of sight.

As the crisis in Old Yharnam unfurled, the leader of the Church Hunters and the vicar did not see much of each other. Laurence locked himself away for weeks, drowning in personal research day and night, receiving but brief visits from the Choir scholars. And for once Ludwig trusted the nature of those meetings to be entirely professional.

On the rare occasion when they lay together the vicar was unusually serious and quiet. It was strange and worrisome to see the normally gregarious man so taciturn, but Ludwig couldn’t blame him. Yharnamites were dying, hunters were dying, the city depended on the scholars to find a cure for the Scourge, and Laurence was still one of the most brilliant minds in the church.

On some nights Laurence climbed out of bed and clutching his new pocket watch returned to his study. And when Ludwig woke, he would find Laurence still there, spasmodically jotting down notes with his eyes closed. He tried telling the vicar to rest properly, but in those moments Laurence’s eyes would always dart to the pocket watch, and his agreement would be a shallow lie. 

Ludwig felt worried for his lover, but he also took pride in his selfless martyrdom. All of Laurence’s prior misdemeanours faded from Ludwig’s memory as he watched the man act as a proper vicar should at the time when it was needed most.

The nightly hunt was a gruesome affair. It was the worst during the period when Gehrman’s workshop had been summoned away to assist Choir scholars in a venture outside the city limits. Ludwig did not know much about the expedition. Only that it involved a fishing hamlet. It seemed to be just another alley of the search for insight that could help them deal with the troubles in Yharnam.

All of Gehrman’s workshop had gone there, but not all of it returned. Those who did seemed grimmer than before, the scholars showed no signs of triumph. So the mission must have been a failure. Ludwig did not inquire further. He’d had his hands full, and the return of some of the city’s best hunters was a great relief.

He was surprised to discover Lady Maria, Gehrman’s best student, did not take up the nightly vigil along with the others. But his attempts to question the Workshop Hunters led nowhere, so he let it go. With or without Lady Maria they had a city to protect, and they would.

Gehrman, while having suffered from a terrible injury during the expedition, did not abandon his duty. He too was reserved and glum. Ludwig assumed it was the loss of limb, or that it had something to do with Lady Maria, but did not ask. He had no energy or time to deal with the personal affairs of others. He had enough frustration with his own.

Because just as he had thought Laurence was acting most admirably and finally living up to his station in all aspects of life, the vicar developed a new irking eccentricity.

Laurence had always furnished his rooms quite richly, which was to be expected of a man of his stature, but recently whenever Ludwig came to the vicar’s rooms he found new exquisite carpets and drapings. 

The leader of the Church Hunters was puzzled by the sudden need to redecorate one’s chambers in the middle of a crisis, but chose not to bother Laurence with it. He kept his opinion on the matter private for the longest time, until he saw five different sets of carpets in the vicar’s chambers in the span of two months. 

“It’s to help my creative process,” Laurence said. “I’m very tired, Lu. I need the distraction. The Church’s riches are bountiful, and if new furnishings grant me a smidgen of inspiration, I think they’re a worthy investment.”

“I guess,” Ludwig answered. He was also exhausted, but he couldn’t see how the drapings and carpets could help. Something just didn’t add up. But who was he to question Laurence’s methods as long as they brought results?


	12. The Deal is Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gehrman lets Laurence swindle him one last time.

Gehrman sat in a wooden chair, sharpening the edge of his so-called Burial Blade. It was just a tricked out scythe, Laurence thought skeptically. An agricultural implement wielded by a son of a peasant with a love for theatrics. Even before his injury Gehrman was pitiful in a way, a commoner stuck in the company of nobility, working hard to rise above his station, but unable to let go of his lowborn nature. Still, as far as hacking things to pieces was concerned he knew no rival. Aside from Ludwig, but comparing anyone to Ludwig was simply unfair.

"How is your leg?" Laurence asked.

"The wooden one?" Gehrman scoffed. "It's fine really. Thank you for asking." He spat on the floor at Laurence's feet. He reeked of cheap whiskey. The smell made Laurence wrinkle his nose.

"You should take blood. It may not grow you a new foot-"

"Then what good will it do me, huh?" Gehrman looked up at him, anger in his eyes. "Chug that damn blood yourself, Laurence. And choke on it." The hunter snatched a bottle of whiskey from the table and demonstratively gulped down several mouthfuls.

Laurence grimaced.

“What sacrifice do you want me to make this time?” Gehrman asked and set the bottle down on the table with a thud. “Another leg? Perchance an arm? A few dozen hunters of mine? What shall it be, Your Reverence? We are all ears, waiting on your every whim.”

“There’s no need for such excessive hostility.” Laurence tried to keep his voice soft, but steel undertones showed through.

“Excessive hostility?” Gehrman laughed bitterly. “Is that how you’d call what we did in that hamlet then? Excessive hostility! That is rich.”

The vicar shifted uneasily and glared at the hunter. “It is beyond the point now. I indeed come to ask for a favor.”

Gehrman gave him an unimpressed, tired look. Of course, he got it right. He was aware Laurence was using him. And Laurence saw his awareness as well, but it would not stop him. Not now. Not ever. Things needed to be done and mere scruples would not stand in his way.

“Paleblood,” Laurence said calmly.

Sober understanding surfaced in Gehrman’s eyes. He was instantly alert, like he had not drunk a sip of alcohol in weeks. “What of it?”

“I want to try to make another deal with the entity, since our attempt to gift it Kos’s child has failed. I want you to… sign a pact and host a dream. The Hunter’s Dream. It would keep your hunters practically immortal as long as they are part of it.” Laurence spoke softly now, making a request, not giving an order. “It would only be a matter of months. Then the Scourge should be under our control and I will send someone to relieve you of your duties.”

Gehrman’s look was frightened and searching. “A few months?”

“Yes.”

“And it would keep my charges from dying.”

“Indeed.”

Gehrman’s red wary eyes stared into Laurence’s own. The vicar’s face was smooth and devoid of signs that could betray his real age, only darkness around his eyes indicated any measure of personal sacrifice. Gehrman sat before him gray and crumpled like an old leather coat, missing a leg and stinking of cheap liquor.

“What do you gain from this?” Gehrman asked cautiously.

“A workshop full of hunters that can’t be killed.”

The first hunter nodded gravely, looking away. Of course, Laurence’s charity was always a swindle in disguise. 

“Think of Maria,” Laurence said quietly. “She would be safe this way.”

Gehrman turned to him angrily. “Don’t try to trick me, you fiend.” He scowled. But he knew it was true. Laurence was right, with a pact that granted immortality to his hunters he could keep them all safe. Maybe he could even keep Maria out of harm’s way. Gehrman sighed, resigned.

“I will do it. But only for a time.”

“Excellent.”


	13. Progress

The Hunter’s Dream was a marvel.

On many occasions Ludwig saw the Hunters of the Dream felled by beasts a minute earlier rush back into the same battle, slaying the very beasts with new vigor. There was but a handful of them, but they were the best of the best, the pride of their respective workshops. And with their newfound immortality the Dream Hunters turned the tide. They could risk scouting ahead in the most treacherous areas like the sewers and the narrowest, most crooked bystreets of Old Yharnam.

Ludwig begged Laurence to send more hunters into the Dream, but Laurence was adamant that it was not yet time, that the Dream would not allow too many hunters at once. Instead he insisted that Ludwig and his mortal Church Hunters should let the Dream Hunters do the deadliest tasks. Seeing no reason to argue with that, Ludwig complied.

For once the situation in Old Yharnam was becoming manageable.

In the temporary peace Ludwig had time to think things over. They were finally subduing the symptoms of the Scourge, its last fatal stages. But the clerics and researchers still had to find the cure to really stop the disease.

Laurence worked day and night. He filled pages with writing. Instructions, notes, letters.

The decorations in his rooms kept changing, but Ludwig decided to let that matter be. If that was what helped Laurence think, so be it. He would leave him to it.

But he found that he couldn’t. Not entirely. 

With his newfound energy and some scraps of free time he thought he would find the vicar early that evening and help Laurence find inspiration in a different, less expensive way.

***

Laurence stopped at the edge of a terrace, lost in thought. He was heading to his rooms, but now he wasn’t entirely sure where he was. He knew he should have remembered that part of Cathedral Ward, but with the physical changes caused by the Scourge came the mental deterioration. Every now and then his thoughts seemed to scatter, his plans tangle and his memories fade into nothing.

Like now he couldn’t for the life of him remember the way from the point he was at to his rooms. They had to be somewhere near, he was absolutely sure of it. But where…

The sound of heavy steps shook him out of his reverie. 

He turned and instead of a man he saw a hulking two-headed beast, a monstrous thing, crawling towards him on a dozen disproportionate limbs. It brought with it the stench of corpses. Something was glowing a sickening aquamarine on its hunched back. 

Laurence froze paralyzed by utter revulsion and horror. The monster was gaining on him, there was nothing he could do, there was nowhere to run or hide. 

“Ludwig,” Laurence whispered, afraid to provoke the beast with a loud noise. “Ludwig,” he repeated desperately, praying that his hunter was nearby. The monster was almost upon him, the pungent smell of rotten flesh enveloped Laurence. He felt the color drain from his face as the creature rested one huge paw on his shoulder - it felt strangely light - and brought its twisted half-human face close to his own.

“What’s the matter, Laurence?” Ludwig’s worried voice came from the beast’s thick throat.

Laurence’s heart sank.

“Laurence, are you alright?”

“Yes… I’m just tired… Overworked…” Laurence looked away, struggling with nausea as steamy foul breath washed over him. 

It was so real, and yet… The hand on his shoulder felt much smaller than it looked, it didn’t weigh as much as it should have… Was this a nightmare? These days he had trouble telling those apart from reality.

“Laurence?”

“I… ah…” The vicar avoided looking up into that monstrous visage that obscured his lover. “I just need to… lie down. Don’t mind me…”

“I thought we could spend the evening together.” Ludwig sounded hopeful.

Laurence pouted and furrowed his eyebrows in an obvious display of sadness. He shook his head. “I’m afraid I would be poor company tonight, my mind is elsewhere, and I still have much research to go through before tomorrow.”

“I understand.”

Ludwig leaned in closer, and Laurence had to fight off the urge to flee from the beastly maw that pressed an impossibly gentle kiss into his temple.

“Please, don’t overwork yourself. We need you, Laurence. The city needs you, the Church needs you. I need you.”

Laurence smiled weakly. “I know. I won’t let you down.”

The monster withdrew, and with a few more words of reassurance it lumbered off. Laurence glanced at its misshapen form one last time before tears blurred his vision completely.


	14. Doomed Monstrosity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some bad dreams come true.

Laurence rearranged the papers on his desk. A few short reports from Gehrman - one accompanied by a request for more books, recent research from his best and brightest subordinate scholars, and the growing stack of instructions the Church should follow in the event of his… untimely demise. Laurence winced at the latter. He wanted to think they would find a cure yet, but… in all honesty he knew his time was running out. The pocket watch that Ludwig gave him was a constant reminder of that. Laurence watched it sadly. It was so much more than a token of affection now. It was both his doom and his ray of light, the beam of a lighthouse guiding his deteriorating mind through the mists of onsetting madness. He ran a finger of the golden chain idly and picked the watch up to study his tired reflection in the polished golden surface.

There was noise in the corridor, but he ignored it. His work was too important, he had to go back to writing all of his previously unrecorded knowledge down while he still had it, while he could still focus enough to write. The noise outside only grew. Laurence pinched the spot between his eyebrows - he had said he was not to be disturbed.

The door opened so violently it struck the wall, the vicar jumped up in his chair from surprise.

Ludwig crossed the room in a flash, his big gloved hands slammed onto the desk so hard the wood creaked mournfully.

“Why?! Why, Laurence?! Why did you do it?”

The vicar stared at Ludwig, frozen and lost for words.

“Why did you give the order to burn Old Yharnam down?!” The leader of the Church Hunters not so much demanded as pleaded. “We’ve fought so hard to salvage it! I had the quarter quarantined as you had asked, why didn’t you even consult me before sending the Powder Kegs in?!”

Powder Kegs. Right. He remembered giving the order, but...

“Why go behind my back?”

He didn’t. In fact, at the moment the order was given Laurence had forgotten about Ludwig altogether. His fading memory be damned, he had forgotten he even existed… Laurence’s expression slipped into that of guilt. The Church Hunter before him took it for a sign of late apprehension.

“There were people in there, Laurence…”

Laurence shook his head trying to clear his thoughts and focus on Ludwig’s words rather than dwell on his memory loss. He sighed tiredly.

“No, Ludwig. There were no people left in Old Yharnam. Just Scourge victims. Doomed monstrosities in the making.”

“There were patients-”

“Yes, they were people once. It was not a decision I made lightly, but it was what had to be done. In the times of a plague cleansing a part of a city with fire can be the only way to save the rest...”

“I’d argue with that reasoning, but you know,  _ you  _ have the last say, so why didn’t you at least inform me?!”

Laurence looked away and said nothing.

“I see…” Ludwig straightened. “You didn’t care for another opinion. You always know best. People should just live and die by your fancy. Did you think it would evade me that you’ve been giving me and my Church Hunters token tasks while you sent the other Workshops and the Dream Hunters to the slaughter time and time again?”

Laurence shifted, crossing his arms and hiding his hands in the folds of his scholar’s robe.

“I know what you’re doing, Laurence. You’re keeping me from the front lines!”

“So I do! So what?” Laurence looked up at his Hunter defiantly.

“I’m not a trophy to put behind glass! I’m the leader of the Church Hunters, I’m supposed to keep the city safe! Let me do my bloody job!”

“Your bloody job is to follow my orders!” Laurence jumped to his feet. “Not to double-guess them! If I say stay out of trouble, you do so! If I say execute all those who show early signs of the Scourge, you do so! If I say burn a district down, you do so!”

The only sound that broke the silence that followed was the creak of leather as Ludwig balled his fists.

“Yes, Your Reverence.”

Ludwig turned on his heels, marched out of the room and slammed the door shut thunderously.

Laurence sank back into his chair. He stared at the closed door and listened as Ludwig’s loud footsteps died out in the distance, replaced by the incessant ticking of the golden pocket watch.


	15. Sometimes He Forgets

One sweet thing, then another. There were so many handsome men in his church. It was a sin to let them go around untouched. If only Gehrman could see him, he would have flown into a jealous rage, but he was just a peasant, and Laurence had clerics to fool around with. Where was Gehrman, anyway? None of his playthings seemed really to know. They spoke in riddles. No matter.

It was a delightful evening. Blood, men, more blood, and even more men. Laurence couldn’t take them to his bedroom, though. There was something there he knew he had to hide. He wasn’t sure what or why. He was the vicar after all, he called the shots! But he also felt he had to keep his hands in his sleeves and try not to showcase the sharpness of his teeth. It felt right to hide these things, just like it felt right to ride one scholar after another in every alcove and broom closet imaginable.

Such fun!

Sadly it didn’t last. Someone finally took issue with his little adventure.

* * *

The man was furious with him. He raged and raved like mad. He accused him of shameless wanton behavior, of insulting his feelings and spitting into his very soul.

Laurence weathered the verbal assault bravely. The man was almost twice his height and looked like he could break Laurence in half with one arm. But he did not so much as touch him. He just ranted on.

What he said was true. Earlier that day he had been there when Laurence got into the pants of a good-looking cleric whose name he could not remember. But how was that or his sexual ventures later in the afternoon any of this angry stranger's business?

"I am the vicar of the Healing Church," Laurence said calmly. "Who are you to tell me what to do?"

The man looked both enraged and miserable. But just as Laurence expected he did not dare resort to violence.

“This is over. We’re over. I refuse to be your plaything any longer, Laurence.”

“Pity. You  _ are  _ good-looking.”

The man’s nostrils flared. He gave Laurence one last look of pain and indignation and left.

The vicar shrugged and went his own way, in search of more compliant company.

* * *

“Ludwig, please, open the door. Please, Ludwig, I beg you.”

Ludwig ignored the incessant whining and sipped his wine. He refused to even look at the door, instead choosing to watch the night outside turn into twilight. His vigil was done, and now he would rest several hours before returning to his duties in the morning. Thankfully the night had been peaceful…

“Lu, I’m so sorry, I know I’ve been awful. I… keep being awful, I  _ am  _ awful. But I miss you so much, Lu, please…”

The Hunter snorted humorlessly. If Laurence’s lies could manifest as poison, the entire city would have drowned in it. Ludwig had hoped that with the crisis overcome Laurence’s behavior would have improved, but it only got worse. He had lost all shame. He fondled men in public. He spent church money on personal excesses. It was hard to tell what he changed more often - furnishings and clothes or lovers. Some days he would not even make eye contact with Ludwig or give him the cold shoulder, on others he was the image of repentance and longing. This was one of those days. Ludwig wasn’t buying this. He had not forgiven Laurence, and he wasn’t going to. Not until the man actually made an effort to change for the better - at least to go back to his imperfect but tolerable old self. If that man had even really existed. Ludwig wasn’t sure anymore.

“Lu… Please…”

Laurence was crying. He could hear that. And a part of him still stirred with pity. He loved the man, no matter how rotten, but he also had self-respect. And standards. Still, Laurence’s sobs unsettled him, and the tall hunter shifted restlessly in his armchair. The Holy Moonlight Sword shone dimly on the table before him. He focused on studying its ornate form.

It worked for maybe half a minute before Ludwig finally gave in.

“What do you want?”

“Lu?” Laurence sounded hopeful. “Lu, please, let me in. I want to see you so badly.”

“No.”

“Why not?” Now Laurence sounded crushed.

Ludwig snarled, annoyed by the overblown theatrics. “Because you have no business in my quarters, Your Reverence.”

“Please, Ludwig, please, forgive me. Or don’t. I just want to see you. Please. We don’t even have to talk. I want to see you… I miss you.”

Something was amiss about that pause. Ludwig almost caved in. But then he remembered it was a masterful manipulator he was dealing with and sat firmly in place.

“Leave me alone, Laurence. I will not let you in. And whining under my door like this is shameful. Even for you. Each time I think you’ve reached the bottom, you find a new low.”

“I know. I am a lecher and a selfish bastard, and you deserve better. I knew you deserved better all along, but I love you. I would walk through fire for you-”

“And yet you can’t keep your hands off of every damn stranger. Spare me these hollow words.”

“I… I have no excuse. I… I don’t ask for you to be with me again. I just want to see you... now. I want to see you...”

Laurence began sobbing again.

Stubborn brat. 

Ludwig stared gloomily at his sword and then into the window. It was almost sunrise. Perhaps he could look into those bespectacled cunning eyes for a moment, if only to remember to be wary of the twisted mind that lurked beyond them.

He glanced behind himself towards the door. There was a sound like scratching. And then all of a sudden it was uncannily quiet in the corridor. Only labored breathing reached him. It didn’t sound right. Ludwig rose, concerned, but also doubting if it wasn’t another trick of Laurence’s - to feign feeling unwell to gain his pity. 

“Laurence?”

Silence. 

Ludwig walked over to the door and opened it. There was no one behind it. He looked out into the corridor and saw Laurence walking away like nothing was the matter.

“So much for all that longing,” Ludwig grumbled and shut the door.

His sword was all the company he was going to tolerate till morning.


	16. Cleric Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Undone by the blood.

The lad leading him said he had a speech to give. But he didn’t want to give any speeches, he wanted blood. Buckets of the stuff. He wanted to tear at the young man’s throat. He wanted to lap at the crimson nectar as it would flow so freely from that lace-framed neck. The other man wanted it too, he saw the blush spreading over his pretty face as he swerved and pressed him into a wall, slipping his hands under his clothes, claws ready to tear through the fabric, the skin and the flesh…

“Your Reverence, with all due respect... everyone is gathered at the Grand Cathedral, you cannot be late.”

“Who said that?” Laurence purred.

“You did, Your Reverence. When you handed me your schedule earlier this week.”

“Hm. I don’t remember that.”

The lad wriggled his way out of the vicar’s grip and straightened his clothes.

“There will be time for this later, Your Reverence. You must focus. It is time…”

Laurence stared vacantly at the blabbering young cleric, only the word “time” echoed in the empty corridors of his mind, joined by an incessant ticking. He pulled the source of the noise out from his pocket. 

It was a golden pocket watch. He opened it. The inscription on the lid caught his attention. It meant nothing to him, but he knew it should. A wave of profound sadness enveloped him. He tried hard to remember who “Ludwig” was and why this man would pledge himself to the owner of the watch, but he couldn’t remember a thing.

“Your Reverence, please, we have to go.”

He snapped the watch closed. “Fine.”

There was a huge crowd gathered in the lofty cathedral.

His legs carried him to the pulpit, while his mind churned on and on in its vacancy, trying to summon that speech he was supposed to be giving. What could it even be about? He leaned on the pulpit, looking at the men and women gathered below. Some shreds of recollection swam through the fog, and Laurence tried in vain to latch onto them. But they slipped through his fingers. Angrily he gripped the pulpit, long claws digging into the wood, leaving deep scratches. A burning itch started in his left hand and crawled under his skin, spreading through muscle and bone. It clawed at his guts and squeezed his heart. He could smell the blood in the veins of the people gathered in the church, it inebriated him. 

No. He had to fight it. Laurence gritted his teeth and clutched onto the pulpit, nostrils flaring. The blood was calling to him, making all else fade. He knew not to heed its call, but now it was louder than ever. The blood screamed, and he screamed with it.

For a brief moment it all came back.

The Scourge of Beasts was taking him. 

He had fought it for years, and he was finally about to lose. Laurence sagged, leaning heavily against the pulpit. The crowd before him looked startled. The vicar felt his shoulder pop, bones unwinding and growing like a spring, stretching muscle and skin, tearing fabric. A murmur rose. The hunters and clergymen stood aghast, all as one staring at him.

He had to fight it. He had to.

Laurence tried to force his arm back into shape.

He was so tired.

Another pop. 

A crash.

Laurence stumbled back. The pulpit lay in shambles. His left arm was covered in thick fur and his fingers ended in sharp claws. He felt the other bones in his body starting to strain, ready to snap into longer more monstrous forms. 

“There will be… larger beasts!”

His own voice was unfamiliar, a screeching, unpleasant sound. Laurence stumbled back another step, gripping onto his misshapen arm with his fairly human right hand.

“Show them no mercy!”

The pain accompanying the transformation of his other arm almost made him scream again.

“Once a man succumbs to the Scourge, he is man no more! He… deserves only… a quick death.”

Laurence panted heavily, drooling onto the floor and onto his robes. The scent of blood filling the cathedral seemed to grow in intensity with every breath he took. His mouth wouldn’t close and his teeth ached for the flesh of his congregation.

“Fear. The Old. Blood!”

The words rang in his mind, a chorus of him and Master Willem. On that fateful day when he left Byrgenwerth and set out to change the world. What a fool he was.

“Fear the Old Blood!” 

Laurence howled. His body arched, spine cracking and growing, robes tearing and falling around him. His deformed hands flew up to his contorting face. He felt it all slip away. The old man in the rocking chair, the underground labyrinth, the ancient school, laboratories, the city of cathedrals built on blood, cells and cages with all manners of grotesques, pages upon pages of manuscripts, hospitals, rituals, many, many different men in throes of passion. The images were strange and made no sense at all. Like a shattered mosaic they were only colorful bits and pieces without story or meaning. Every memory broke into a thousand tiny specks and was burnt away. This hurt more than any physical transformation ever could. He shrieked and shrieked, clutching onto his beastly skull as memories burst right out of it together with enormous antlers.

There were small creatures all around him. Little scuttling things. Most were running away, but others produced long sharp objects and were preparing to charge.

The biggest one of the remaining creatures caught his attention. That one was somehow important. He tried to grab the big one with his left hand, but it escaped, darting to the side in the last moment. It struck with a glittery long thing and hurt his hand. He screamed at the insolent little thing.

Something hit his side and the fur on it was engulfed in flame.

He screamed.


	17. Farewell

The beast was slain.

Clerics and hunters ran to and fro. Ludwig, the Holy Blade, walked heavily out of the devastated cathedral and sat down on the steps. He was soaked in blood, covered in soot and exhausted.

His mind was blank.

The creature was dead, its head severed from its body.

He bore the stains to prove it.

But this time there was no celebration, no feeling of a job well-done, a peaceful death delivered.

The man he loved was no more.

He couldn’t believe it. He had seen it happen, saw every moment of that appalling transformation, but he couldn’t accept it. Laurence couldn’t have turned into a beast. They couldn’t have murdered the vicar of the Healing Church… It was unreal.

Ludwig felt numb.

He heard others cry, but he did not shed a tear. He was living a nightmare, but he was going to wake up. He had to.

He didn’t.

He helped quell the panic in the Cathedral Ward, he gave orders and made sure the wounded were tended to. When everything seemed to finally be out of control he turned to leave for his rooms, but a cleric caught up with him.

She handed him a crushed golden pocket watch. It lay silently in his palm, the arrows frozen forever behind broken glass stained with blood and soot.

Ludwig wept.

* * *

It took him hours to gather his courage and step into Laurence’s study. Scholars of the Choir were carrying stacks of manuscripts out, following the instructions left by the vicar. They had everything, one of them assured Ludwig. A successor had been named, plans had been made. It was all under control. And there was a letter for the Holy Blade personally.

Ludwig held the envelope in his hands as scholars hurried past him, gathering research notes.

No one said a word, only flames crackled in the fireplace.

Ludwig gave the flames a gloomy look and slowly broke the seal on the envelope.

He sat heavily into the same armchair in which he had had that first meaningful conversation with Laurence at the start of their relationship. Ludwig stared at the envelope forlornly. He was alone. The last of the scholars had left and closed the door behind her.

Ludwig finally pulled the thick letter out.

Laurence’s beautiful calligraphic writing made him tear up before he even processed the words.

“Dearest, beloved Ludwig,

By the time you will be reading this I will be gone. What brave soul fells the beast that is consuming me now has my blessing and my gratitude.

I know now that I am cursed. Just like those unfortunates in Old Yharnam, I am succumbing to the Scourge of Beasts. My transformations are reversible and brief, yet ever more frequent. My memory fails me. At times I hardly remember who or where I am. Sometimes I forget you, and it pains me terribly. I do not wish for you to see me like this, to partake in this horror. You have enough beasts to deal with during the Hunt, enough troubles on your mind. I will deal with this on my own, but rest assured that the very thought of you, the hope that my last frantic research might save you from the same fate, gives me strength. I will not fail you, I will not fail the city. I may die, but my work will live on, and you will be saved…”

Ludwig stared at the page in horror.

_Sometimes I forget you._

Laurence wasn’t ignoring him. He wasn’t being a shameless profligate. He was losing his mind and his humanity, and covering it all up. Shaken, Ludwig rose to his feet. He dropped the letter on the small table by the armchair and strode towards a tapestry hanging on a nearby wall. He tore it down.

The wall was crisscrossed by deep jagged scratches and dents like some huge monsters had attacked it in futile rage. The carpets hid more of them same. Bloodstains. Scratches, even bitemarks. Ludwig sunk back into the chair, surveying the ruin around him. Years. Laurence had spent years hiding his affliction, lying and pretending his behaviour was whims and caprices, while he was going through agonizing metamorphosis time and time again, slowly losing his mind.

Ludwig covered his mouth with his hand, a lump forming in his throat.

All these years…

And last night, when Laurence came to him, he must have felt he was losing the fight, that his complete change was imminent. In his darkest hour he had come pleading at Ludwig’s door, and Ludwig had turned him down.

“Why, Laurence? Why couldn’t you just tell me…” Ludwig gripped his head in his hands, feeling a physical pain growing in his chest. “Why is it always lies with you? If you wanted to spare me suffering, why hide this? Why couldn’t you reach out to me, let me help you through this?!”

How many years had Laurence been like this? How long had he suffered in silence? Ludwig had promised to always be by his side and yet in this greatest time of need he had failed Laurence completely. He was not there to support him, worse than that even - deluded by the vicar’s masterful lies, he turned away from him, lost his respect for him, abandoned him. He had been blind and ignorant, when he should have stayed vigilant and true to his vows. The newfound knowledge overwhelmed the Church Hunter. He would live the rest of his life with this guilt.

Ludwig picked up the letter again and flipped through the pages. The writing changed towards the end, growing uneven and erratic. Some pages were stained with what must have been tears, a few of the last ones were stained with blood.

“I love you. I love you. I love you so much. I miss you, please, Ludwig, I miss you.” repeated over and over on one of the last pages.

Hurt and furious at himself and Laurence, Ludwig gripped the stack of papers and tossed them into the fire.

For a second he watched the flames crawl over the paper.

Then he dove down towards the fireplace and retrieved the burning letter. He patted it wildly against his clothes, catching fragments that were breaking off and falling back into the flames. He swore and he wept and he cursed himself and Laurence.

He spent the rest of the evening in the armchair, weeping over the longest love letter he had ever received and the fragments of it that he had burnt before he could even read them. The words that Laurence had left for him and him only, that he had so thoughtlessly destroyed.

* * *

When the new vicar was anointed, Ludwig spoke to her at length about the nobility and selflessness of her predecessor. The rumors of Laurence’s misdemeanors were outrageous libel. And all who spread such venomous lies were nothing but detractors and heretics. Laurence had been a martyr and a patriarch. It was a great honor to be his successor. And with it came great responsibility. And a gold pendant with the vicar’s last words.


	18. His Moonlight

He sat on the stairs of the Grand Cathedral, looking at the night sky. Perhaps it was just exhaustion speaking but days seemed somehow scarcer now, and the nights of the Hunt felt longer than ever before. Ludwig frowned, trying to remember the last sunrise.

Indeed, the Scourge was still upon them, spreading among the citizens, hunters and clergy alike. It seemed to affect not just the people but the entire city now, slowly but inevitably trapping Yharnam in coils of its madness. Where had this plague come from? Was it even something out of this world? The scholars had their theories, each next wilder than the first. Everyday experiments were conducted, horrible, terrifying research that Laurence had approved and was carrying out behind his back. The First Vicar had been right, Ludwig wouldn’t want to know anything about it. He still didn’t. Luckily there were always duties to distract him from delving in deeper. What mattered was that the hunters under his command were noble and fearless and they stood firm against the threat, so that night after night the Yharnamites could sleep peacefully.

Ludwig's gaze shifted to his sword that shone with calming pale green light. In the times when people looked at the skies with a fearful eye and no one could trust the moon anymore, this was his moonlight, the only one he could truly rely on. While the sun gave the city hope during the brief hours of day, his faithful moonlight shone for him day and night alike, allowing him to always stand guard.

He gazed at the particles of light whirling within the magnificent blade that had slain so many a beast. Even when he shut his eyes, those specks of light still guided him, unfailingly leading him where he needed to be, and making sure his hand would strike ever true.

For many years the sword he had found in the depths of the chalice dungeons had been erroneously disregarded. He had a different guiding light back then - his beloved vicar. He had a different sword as well and so he had discarded the marvellous find as a mere curious plaything. Only later, in the years preceding Laurence’s demise, with his heart torn by inner turmoil, Ludwig had finally turned to the Holy Moonlight Sword, and swiftly learned what it had to offer. Ever since, it would quiet his thoughts and allay his fears. Enveloped in its glow, he followed the thread of light, as he waded through the blood and stench of beasts, leading his hunters into victory after victory.

It could not replace Laurence, of course, not ever. All these years later, he still missed the man dearly. No matter how many lies and little horrors of science the vicar had built all around him, life without Laurence would have been void and lonely.

But in a way, the sword lifted that longing.

It was this very blade that severed the head of the beast that his lover had turned into. And ever since that time, curiously enough, when Ludwig shut his eyes, he would see not just the thread of guiding light but also a specter of Laurence. Sometimes, the ghost would beckon him into the direction he needed to go. Other times, it would just linger by his side, always silent.

Ludwig was not sure whether it was truly some essence of Laurence that had pervaded into the blade when it had taken his life, or perhaps it was merely the sword’s way of offering its consolation, but he embraced it, and he spent long, quiet hours with the vicar that was no more. The first time the vision had appeared to him, his heart beat faster and filled with hope. All too soon however it had become clear that the ghost could not respond to his questions, his whispered pleas, and his shouted accusations - it only looked at Ludwig with its sad eyes, as moonlight caught on the silver frames of its spectacles.

It wasn’t Laurence, not really. Ludwig knew better than anyone that what was left of his vicar was a pair of shattered glasses, a broken pocket watch, letter with pages licked by the flames and a beastly skull placed at the altar to serve as a cautionary tale for the future generations. But sometimes he wanted to lie to himself and give into the comfort of his lover’s presence.

And as he filled his days and nights with duty and service to Yharnam, trying not dwell on his desolate existence, Ludwig was ever more grateful to the sword for giving him at least that faded ghost of a memory.

* * *

 

**And thus, dear readers, we've reached the end! Thank you for staying with us through this tumultuous and sad story. If you've been commenting, please do share your feelings with us one more time, and if you've been sneakily reading but never commented, please do come out of the shadows and tell what you think! ;D And for those of you who feel miserable, please be assured that there is what we call 'a happy AU' in the works to lift your spirits! It will be posted as a separate fic, so keep an eye out for it in the hopefully near future.**

**Ps. also let it be known that the horrors of science that Ludwig thinks he'd discovered after Laurence's death, are actually nothing much - he will discover so much more before his own demise, and that will finally twist his opinion of Laurence somewhat.**

**And now for the symbolic ending theme as the credits roll... :'D**

 

**The Lullaby of Loneliness ([click here to play the song](http://picosong.com/73sn/))**

_I'm alone with what's left of my life_  
_while the moon cuts the night like a knife_  
_I am starved as the sigh of the stars_  
_you're the pulse in the rhythm of the hours_  
_turned to years but the night never ends_  
_you heal me you open the wounds again_  
_and any promise of dawn of day_  
_is so far so far away_  
_the lullaby of loneliness_  
_the lullaby of loneliness_

 _just a sick little trick of the light_  
_just the moon rolling cold through the lips of the night_  
_just a whisper like smoke on the tongue_  
_dying words of a distant sun_  
_just the murmur of fire in the vein_  
_just the winding of time on its chain_  
_just the shadows the longing the deep_  
_of your song but it won't bring me sleep_  
_the lullaby of loneliness_  
_the lullaby of loneliness_

 _the night wears your face_  
_the night wears your face_


End file.
